


Mr Rogers, Mr Rogers

by TheCityLightShow



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCityLightShow/pseuds/TheCityLightShow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Vegas Cliche, without the Vegas part. </p><p>Or, in which Tony married Steve and he doesn't remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr Rogers, Mr Rogers

Tony Stark doesn't think he's going to forgive himself for this.

 

They'd completed the mission, as the Avengers, without a hitch – not something they were known for doing. It had all been going so brilliantly – until Clint decided that celebrating twenty minutes away in Las Vegas was a really good idea.

 

Tony will admit, he doesn't remember much after he decided he was going to match Steve and Thor shot-for-shot (and apparently, neither does Steve). What he _does_ remember is waking up in a hotel room with arms around his waist and a ring on his finger. He remembers the panic and the fear as he rolled over, hoping not to wake the unfortunate soul beside him, and boy does he remember the sheer relief, when he was greeted with the Sleeping Beauty of Steve Rogers.

 

_Shit._

 

Tony knew ditching at this point wasn't an option. He frantically tried to remember, well, anything. Who'd asked who, when had it happened – did the others know? Did they care? Why did he care so much? Tony felt Steve shift behind him, the word 'husband' flashing through his mind and setting off alarm bells as it went.

 

The next thing Tony can bring himself to remember is Natasha cornering him in a corridor back at the tower, a fist next to his head and mere inches between their faces.

 

“I swear to God, Stark, if this is a joke to you...” she'd growled. Tony had yelped when her fist hit the wall, but he smirked at her now. She'd looked like she might slap him, but when he didn't reply she stalked off.

 

Tony sank down against the wall when she'd gone, the air huffing out of him like a deflated balloon. Steve had been walking around the tower with a spring in his step, Tony unable to tell him he didn't remember a thing – and the rest of the team knew it. This wasn't a joke to him; it was becoming an increasingly large problem – but when Steve had woken up blearily and pressed a kiss to Tony's neck with a _Good morning, Mr. Rogers_ Tony had melted inside and let him.

 

And it kept happening.

 

Steve's smile made Tony's face split into a grin without his permission. Steve gently wrapping an arm around his waist with a kiss to his hair every time he had to go out made Tony's heart stutter. Steve sitting with an arm on the back of the couch and his leg pressed up against Tony's made Tony feel like he had butterflies in his stomach. Just as Tony realised that he could happily get used to it, it all came tumbling down...

 

A mission gone wrong, an argument sparked – for once, Steve in defence of Tony's recklessness, and then someone snapping the words at him, a “why are you defending him when he doesn't love you anyway?”.

 

A month of something Tony might've called happiness, and Steve hadn't been seen in a week.

 

None of the team will talk to Tony, and Tony doesn't want them to try. He still doesn't know who said it – but after he ran after Steve, asked him to come back, and proved them wrong without even realising he had – they should all be really fucking sorry for it.

 

A month of sleeping nearly every night, and Tony hasn't slept in a week.

 

It's 7am, and Tony's sat on a couch on the communal floor, staring at nothing in particular and his coffee long gone cold. His thoughts run wild in his head as he tries to understand how on Earth he missed the fact that he fell in love with Steve Rogers way before they ended up married.

 

“Stark, I've got the divorce papers. ...Stark?” There's a pause between the statement and his surname as Tony brings himself to look up at Steve. Steve towers over him, but for once he looks so small, and there's no hiding the hurt in his eyes. “I- I'm sorry I said yes,” he mumbles after a moment, “but you insisted for two hours straight, and I couldn't keep saying no...” Tony still just looks at him, trying to find words in his mind. “Stark?” Tony reacts at last, shaking his head.

 

“That's not my name.” Tony can't help the smile creeping onto his face as he speaks.

 

“What do you- Tony?” Steve sounds uncertain, more like a little kid from Brooklyn than a supersoldier.

 

“I'm not Stark. I'm not Tony Stark.” He says, calmly, still smiling, standing up and stepping towards him. “I'm Tony Rogers, remember?” and he's grinning because it's the first time _he's_ ever said it, and if that wasn't the missing circuit in this machine he doesn't know what was.

 

“If you're doing this because you feel sorry for me, Tony, then I don't want you to do it all-” Steve is cut off by Tony taking and throwing the papers in Steve's hand, Tony silencing him with a kiss – simple and sweet, but perhaps Tony's favourite so far. Steve relaxes, shoulders sagging, leaning in, and Tony smirks when he pulls back.

 

Tony wants to say something, but he can hear JARVIS' voice from the elevator, announcing to whomever occupies it that Mr Rogers and Mr Rogers are currently in the kitchen. He can also hear the muttered “what the fuck” that Clint remarks, and the “it's about time” that could've been Bruce. They'll be time for everything they want to say, need to say, later. For now they're content with a small, whispered sentence.

 

“I love you, Mr Rogers.”

 

And does it quite matter who says it? The reply comes back the same.

 


End file.
